None of the weeds carpeting the seafloor, none of the branches bristling
from the shrubbery, crept, or leaned, or stretched on a horizontal plane.
They all rose right up toward the surface of the ocean.
Every filament or ribbon, no matter how thin, stood ramrod straight.
Fucus plants and creepers were growing in stiff perpendicular lines,
governed by the density of the element that generated them.
After I parted them with my hands, these otherwise motionless
plants would shoot right back to their original positions.
It was the regime of verticality.
I soon grew accustomed to this bizarre arrangement, likewise to
the comparative darkness surrounding us. The seafloor in this forest
was strewn with sharp chunks of stone that were hard to avoid.
Here the range of underwater flora seemed pretty comprehensive to me,
as well as more abundant than it might have been in the arctic
or tropical zones, where such exhibits are less common.
But for a few minutes I kept accidentally confusing the two kingdoms,
mistaking zoophytes for water plants, animals for vegetables.
And who hasn't made the same blunder? Flora and fauna are so closely
associated in the underwater world!
I observed that all these exhibits from the vegetable kingdom
were attached to the seafloor by only the most makeshift methods.
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